


Zoot Suit Riot

by sasha_b



Series: Live By The Sword [13]
Category: King Arthur (2004), Original Work
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-06
Updated: 2013-09-06
Packaged: 2017-12-25 18:31:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/956332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sasha_b/pseuds/sasha_b
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A dance party and a change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Zoot Suit Riot

**Author's Note:**

> Part of Live By The Sword, posted in the order written. I am editing these a bit as I go, but most of the writing is staying intact. I hope that I've gotten better as time has passed, but it's nice to see these as they were written. I have also waffled back and forth in the spelling of Guin/Gwen's name - I'm leaning to Guin now, but if you see it change - sorry about that.
> 
> Lance is about to graduate from University here, and Arthur's been out about two years.
> 
> Lyrics and title courtesy of Cherry Poppin' Daddies.

_Who’s your daddy? Yes I am_

The music beat through his head like bloodflow, and it was fucking great. He was fucking great. Two weeks of school left, after almost five years of solid studying hell behind him.

He wasn’t sure what he was going to do with a philosophy degree, but Lance really didn’t care right then. He cared about drinking till his nerves stopped shouting at him, and he cared about getting fucked into oblivion, the sooner the better. Trouble was, the object of his affection was dancing with a girl. A pretty girl, granted, a girl who was deserving of the other man’s attention, but it didn’t make him feel any less ignored.

 

Fuck her. He looked much better than she did. Look at his suit, for fuck’s sake. Slicked to the nines. Hair perfect. Suit an antique that had been found buried in mothballs in his uncle’s attic. Shoes that killed his feet and weren’t good for anything but picking up women – or certain men. And he had done both with them on. Said women were all over him, too – them dressed to the tee as well. Pouty, cherry lips, coiffed ponytails, tight dresses and sweaters, mary janes with fuck me heels that made his skin tight slacks feel a little bit too tight. “Lance. You look like a movie star,” one of them – Nicole? – told him as he passed. He winked at her, and made for the bar, making sure to walk with a nice swagger so her eyes followed his body. He laughed when they did.

 

His eyes, god damn it all, kept tracking out to the floor, and to his sister, who was giggling and hanging all over his roommate. “Fuck,” he hissed to himself. “Bourbon, neat,” he told the bartender, who poured it without commenting and handed it to him. He drained the finger serving in one gulp, tapped the bar, and shot the second one too. “Much better,” he sighed, his veins and stomach warming from the alcohol. The University certainly knew how to throw a shindig. It helped to attend an expensive school. 

A grating laugh reached his ears, and his shoulders rose sky high. He turned, a snarl in place he couldn’t help, to see his sister and her dance partner swinging like they were the newest couple to back up fucking Brian Setzer or something. God, sometimes he wanted to kill her. She knew how he felt!

 

Shit.

 

His hot gaze ticked to the left, and the girl who had just spoken to him. She was standing alone for the moment, her red hair upswept into a ponytail that just brushed her shoulderblades. The dress she had on hugged every in and out of her body, and the shoes – god, but he had a thing about women in heels. A purr rumbled in his chest, and he set his empty glass down on the bar, tossed a bill on the counter, and stalked over towards her. Fuck Arthur. If he was going to spend all his time dancing with Guin, Lance was definitely going to get himself something to do as well. “Hi,” he said into the girl’s ear, having snuck up on her. She jumped and laughed, her green eyes landing on him. Fucking green eyes. He sighed, then smiled. “Nicole, right?”

 

“Good memory,” she answered, her voice throaty and soft. She winked back at him. His grin grew wider. “I like your suit,” she added. “Very vintage.”

 

“It should be – it is vintage,” he answered. “Helps to have pack rat relatives that keep everything they ever bought.” He inclined his head. “Care to dance?”

 

She dimpled, and held out her hand. He took that as an affirmative, and twirled her out onto the wooden floor, the song that had been playing transitioning into a faster number. Those stupid dance lessons his stepmother had insisted on when he and Guin were children were going to pay off finally.

 

_A whipped up jitterbugging brown eyed man_

 

They moved like they had danced together forever, and for a little while, Lancelot actually forgot that he was out there to make Arthur pay attention to him. He was actually having fun. The girl was good. Almost as good as he was. Her hair only whipped him in the neck once; she blushed and shouted an apology over the music. He just laughed and swung her up and around his waist, her feet shooting for the ceiling. He swallowed when he noticed her garter belt sticking out of her dress. God. Garter belts and heels? He was so living in the wrong era. But – he wouldn’t have Arthur if he wasn’t living where he was now – and Jesus, but wasn’t that a stupid thought? He was sweating now – wool suits definitely were not a good choice when it was hot. As he spun himself and Nicole around, he got a glimpse of Guin's long dark hair whirling over Arthur’s shoulder. He shut his eyes briefly, and put every bit of attention back on the girl in his arms, who was panting and matching each move he made.

 

She would prove a good distraction.

 

*

 

_In my veins hot music ran_

 

“Ah – oh!”

 

“Ow, Lance, my hair – oh, wait – oh right – oh fuuuuuuuck.”

 

Leg flashing white and thick past his eyes.

 

“Can you just – ohmygod, yes, right there, that’s ittttttttttttt ah!”

 

Placing one last tiny kiss on the girl’s swollen and now satisfied flesh, Lancelot smiled and rose up over her, his tongue darting out to lick her mouth.

 

“Fuck,” she sighed, “you’re a god.”

 

Yeah. Tell him that.

 

*

 

The cigarette smoke curled around his damp hair as Lancelot sat in his car, the wind blowing gently against his sweaty face. His suit jacket he had long since abandoned, and his trousers were feeling slightly less snug since his new friend had taken care of him after he had lavished time and attention on her.

 

The radio was on softly, and he almost didn’t hear the passenger door open. The thunk it made closing shook him out of his contemplation, but he kept smoking, his brown eyes watching the stars that twinkled and made him want to shoot every one of them out of their spots in the dark sky. “Have a nice time?” he snipped. The person next to him sighed. “Why don’t you just tell me when something bothers you that much?” Arthur asked, his face turned to the front of the car as well. The top down, the Thunderbird cut an impressive shape against the other cars on the road – curvy, modern, and in Lancelot’s book, the ugliest things he’d ever seen. No sex appeal whatsoever. 

“You’re supposed to know, Arthur. It’s not seemly for me to have to tell you how I feel,” he answered, a sigh escaping as well. “Damn. I try really hard to not channel my sister, but sometimes it’s near fucking impossible.”

 

Arthur actually laughed at that. Lancelot couldn’t help but snort in response, a smile helplessly decorating his features. He looked over at Arthur finally. The other man was sweaty, his face flushed, his tie pulled away from his collar, the buttons undone enough to show the edge of his collarbone and the top of his chest. His light cologne wafted on the air and filled the car with his unique scent.

 

Lancelot was on him in about two seconds flat.

 

“Wha – mmmmmf,” was what Arthur managed to get out before Lancelot’s lips were attacking his. Arthur laughed into his mouth, his hand rising to sink into the other man’s hair, twining through the damp curls easily. Lancelot managed to crawl over so he was laying haphazardly across Arthur, his hip digging into Arthur’s thigh, his hand scrabbling at the buttons on Arthur’s shirt that were still done up. “Off, now,” he breathed, his fingers getting Arthur’s tie loose enough to slide it up and over his head. He only caught it on Arthur’s nose once – a had to stifle a laugh at the look that caused. 

“Not in the car. Not again,” Arthur begged. “I had bruises on my elbows for a week.”

 

“Then take me home,” Lancelot answered, “you fucking ass. You danced the whole time with my sister. Jerk.”

 

Arthur had the decency to look chagrined. “What was I supposed to do? Dance with you? Who would lead?”

 

“Me, of course,” Lancelot replied. “You can’t jitterbug worth shit.”

 

“Oh, fuck you,” Arthur smiled, “I taught you how, so I know that’s not true. Besides, Guin's a much better partner than you. She never steps on my feet – ah! Shit! Get off me!”

 

*

 

_You got me in a sway and I want to swing you dove_

 

“Two more weeks, huh? You ready?”

 

Lancelot groaned, his cheek on Arthur’s stomach, the short beard tickling the skin there. “I don’t know. I think so – but what’m I going to do when I’m finished?” Arthur cocked an eyebrow, looking down at the other man. “You’re kidding, right? You just spent almost five years getting a degree you were very passionate about getting – and now you don’t know what you’re going to do with it?”

 

Lance raised his head, and rested his arms on Arthur. “Considering you’ve been out of school with a criminology degree for two years now and work for a newspaper, I’d refrain from handing out judgements like that.” His fingers tickled up Arthur’s chest, ending up cupping the other man’s cheek, trying to smooth out the lines that grooved themselves into Arthur’s face. “I’m only giving you a hard time, Arthur. I know you’re smart, you know you’re smart. You’ll figure it out, eventually.”

 

_I think I have. And I don’t think you’ll like it._

 

Arthur twisted his mouth in silent contemplation, but didn’t voice his idea.

 

“What?” Lance asked. He tilted his head to the side, allowing it to lay on the arm that was draped over Arthur’s belly. “Nothing,” he answered, his hand drifting to pet Lancelot’s hair softly. Lancelot smiled and shut his eyes, tilting his head more to lean into Arthur’s touch. Arthur lay one hand behind his head, and his own eyes drooped shut. Dancing took a lot out of him – especially when doing the dance of possession between the Benoit siblings. He loved them both – but he was addicted to Lancelot. Guin couldn’t compete with that.

 

“Arthur? You all right?”

 

“Yes, worrywart,” he answered, not opening his eyes. If he did, he’d have to see the concern and love in the brown ones in front of him, and he couldn’t bear that right now.

 

_I’ll tell him tomorrow. Yeah. Then I’ll be ready._

 

Tomorrow.

 

“ ‘love you,” Lancelot murmured sleepily, moving to lay flush with Arthur, his hand flinging itself to cradle Arthur’s torso next to his. He was snoring in seconds.

 

“I love you, too,” Arthur told Lancelot’s sleeping form, finally opening his eyes now that the other man’s startling, shining brown orbs were shut. He glanced over to the chest of drawers, and thought about the wooden box and acceptance letters from the LAPD Academy that were tucked inside of it.

 

Tomorrow.

 

_You’d best stay away when the pushers come to shove_


End file.
